


Unfinished Business

by notforme



Category: Kamen Rider Gaim
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-16
Updated: 2014-09-16
Packaged: 2018-02-17 12:28:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2309672
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notforme/pseuds/notforme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Kazuraba-Kouta’s End of Gaim Tokusatsu Songfic Challenge.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Unfinished Business

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Unfinished Business by White Lies.  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UM8MbnLG9O8
> 
> Ryouma/Takatora. Imagining if Takatora died from the fall in episode 28 and how Ryouma initially dealt with it…or how they both initially dealt with it?

Takatora’s entire body ached. Every bone and every muscle, even the tiniest fragment of bodily tissue, all felt out of place or broken in some way. The usual tingling sensation, the beating of his heart, the rushing of blood around his body, all the things that let one know they’re alive, all seemed to be missing. He wasn’t even sure how he was still standing after the fall, let alone how he managed to get back from the forest depths to his office atop the Yggdrasill Tower. It felt as if not a second had passed since Ryouma commanded Sid to knock him to his death. The fall… His death… But how was he here now? Whatever happened can wait. He has too much work left to do; he can’t abandon that now, not for anything. This is the task he was assigned to, the burden he has to bear. The future of the entire world rests on his shoulders. He can’t stop now.

As he stumbled further into his office, the state of it almost dropped him to his knees. It was complete chaos. His papers were thrown everywhere, his potted plant had been smashed, and everything that he left in its rightful place on his desk had been hurled around. Moonlight streamed into the room through a broken window, the whole panel of glass seemingly shattered into a thousand pieces decorated the flooring like some kind of mosaic. The pale light reflected the particles of dust that began to settle in the room as an eerie wind gently blew. Takatora was so absorbed in the destruction that plagued the room that it took him a few moments to notice the sobbing man, curled up in a shivering mess on the cold floor.

His former friend, or rather, the professor, had rarely been to his office for quite some time. He wouldn’t have expected to find him here, of all places. Thinking back now, Takatora realises they certainly grew more distant from each other over time, both becoming more engrossed in their work. But for Ryouma it was something else. It had spiralled out of control to the point of obsession. Takatora couldn’t understand what caused it, or why he even betrayed him what felt like only a few moments prior. He didn’t understand. He couldn’t process his thoughts quick enough to catch up to the reality in front of him. He had so many questions.

The man on the floor was audibly weeping. His white lab coat had come undone and sprawled out around him as he lay slumped against the black desk, his eyes blurring as tears continuously fell. He knew this day would come; he had been planning it for so long - the final betrayal - this death was a necessity. He wanted Takatora to become a god, his god, but when he did not respond correctly, what else was he to do? This was the only way. This was the only way. Even repeatedly telling himself those words over and over again in his mind, like some kind of prayer for redemption, he still couldn’t stop the emotions building up inside of him. He had killed his once best friend. The one person he would have once given everything to. It felt as if the bitter chill that entered through the smashed window was hissing Takatora’s final words into his numb ears. “Weren’t you and I doing this together to save humanity?!” He wasn’t sure what was worse, the words themselves or the pained scream of his name that followed. The frustration, anger and betrayal in Takatora’s voice felt like it would haunt him forever. No matter how hard Ryouma covered his ears with him palms, the wind still blew strong, and his tears continued to fall.

“R-Ryouma… Why?” Takatora stuttered as he dragged his despondent body towards that of the scientist. His dry lips felt sore as he spoke, he could feel the crusted stains of blood that smeared across them, but they were deathly cold. Everything felt so distant.

Ryouma hadn’t seemed to notice his presence or hear his voice, but his sobbing did abruptly cease. He started to stand, his legs shaking slightly before finally submitting to his will. The sound of cracking glass and the slashing of skin echoed around the circular room as Ryouma trudged his body through the line of broken glass up to the edge of the once solid window. The patter of his bare feet stepping through the glass left behind both a trail of light condensation and of his own blood.

“Ryouma,” Takatora tried again to call out to him, but the man still didn’t respond. “Ryouma… Answer me!” Takatora was beginning to let his frustration come through in his voice. He needed answers, an explanation, or at least some kind of acknowledgement. But no matter what he said, Ryouma didn’t respond.

The hissing of the wind grew louder as Ryouma gripped an already bloodied hand against the cracked window frame, splinters of glass undoubtedly digging into his hand. But he didn’t seem to care. With his free hand, he wiped the tears that were quickly drying to an icy texture from his cheeks as another round of bitter wind blew. The hair band that had already slipped slightly from its usual position now came loose and fell to the floor silently behind him, letting his shoulder length hair flop down around his neck.

Takatora collapsed to his knees at last. His body finally felt too heavy for him to support on his own. Landing onto the glass ridden floor beneath him, he expected to feel some pain, or at least some kind of sensation as his body hit the floor, but again, all was still and silent. He looked back up to Ryouma who was still gazing out over the horizon and the city below, wiping the tears from his eyes. From this perspective, the glow from the moon shone through the cracks in his hair and outlined every feature of his profile. Takatora hadn’t fully realised how he had aged over the years. It’d been a long time now that he’d known him, but only now that he looked at him with such desperate eyes did he notice the little signs of aging. But still, a sense of nostalgia removed any of the remaining anger and confusion he still felt towards him, as Ryouma’s hair flopped down in the chilling breeze. Despite the obvious differences that were the result of time, he couldn’t help but remember the much younger man he once knew. How close the two of them were, how they used to be. What had happened? How had it come to-?

“Where are you?” Ryouma whispered into the night, his breath visible in the air. “…Takatora.”

The sudden voice broke Takatora from his reminiscence. His eyes quickly found their way once more to Ryouma’s form by the moonlit window, the wind blowing his hair and lab coat out from behind him. “I’m here… I’m here, Ryouma.” Takatora tried to call out to him, managing to push aside the numb feeling that consumed his body and get back up onto his feet. He stumbled for a few moments, trying to regain his balance. “I-I’m here,” he dragged his himself slowly over towards Ryouma. They were close now, if only he could just reach out and grab him, hold him- He stopped. He hadn’t noticed before now, not since getting closer to the windows, but… he wasn’t there. He wasn’t standing behind Ryouma. His reflection was gone. He frantically began to check all the other reflective windows that wrapped around the room, hoping it was maybe just the lighting or his eyes playing tricks on him, but everywhere he looked he was missing. Only Ryouma was standing alone in the room, no one else was there. Tears began to fall as he looked back to the man standing just in front of him now, back towards him. “Ryouma…” he tried saying his name again, but his voice still was a mere choked whisper now. Again, no response. More tears began to fall from his eyes. He saw them brewing and saw them fall off his cheeks, be he couldn’t feel them. He was completely numb. He had to accept the reality. He was dead. “….No,” he lifted up a heavy hand, observing to make sure he was still real. He has to be. “No!” He was beginning to fade, his entire body becoming more and more transparent as the seconds went by, thinning away into nothing.

“It’s time to go,” a voice, not his own or belonging to Ryouma, beckoned. It was a loud echoing voice, but at the same time so gentle and caring. As if it was guiding rather than forcing, but the end result would still be the same.

Frenzied with fear, Takatora began snapping his head around at 90° angles, frantically trying to locate the source of the noise. But he was only left more confused by the absence of another. Somehow, though, he could feel a great presence brewing in the room, as if something was closing in around him. His body started to feel strange; the numbness that clung to his bones seemed to be lifting, disappearing, but was replaced with an entirely alien feeling. As he looked further down at his own body, he was nearly completely gone. “No! Not yet…! I-I need more time! No-” In a last sheer attempt to stop his fate, he thrust a fading hand forwards, trying to grab onto Ryouma’s shoulder. At the point where his hand should have made contact with the professor’s coat, it simply went straight through him. It was as if he was punching smoke. Or more, as if he was the smoke. “No…no-” Takatora stumbled backwards, falling back down to the ground with another silent thud. This can’t be happening. There was such a lack of sensation or feeling in his body that there must have been a name for it, away to describe it. He could feel himself disappearing. He could feel his body slowly becoming less and less visible. He could feel himself leaving, going somewhere, but not sure where. His life was ending. He tried to rack through his brain to find some final thought, something that could possibly save him or failing that, something to ease the way. A childhood memory, something or someone that was significant to him, something that made all of this worth while. But no, he had failed; failed in his mission to save humanity, failed in his mission to fulfil the family name, failed in his mission to be a good brother. He deserved no final, happy thought. His life was over.

The silence remained.

Another harsh wind blew against Ryouma’s face as he wiped away the last of his tears. “Forgive me, Takatora... I’m-I’m sorry,” he muttered as he looked up towards the sky. He let out a lengthy sigh, watching his breath dance upon the air, reflecting the moonlight briefly before fading away. He was strangely suddenly aware of his own hair brushing against the sensitive skin on the back of his neck. Almost unconsciously, he reached a hand up to his hair, “oh.” He hadn’t even realised it came undone. He slid the band around his wrist and scrapped all his hair back into a tight ponytail. He turned back to look down on the city below him. It was too dark, and he too high up, to be able to see people walking around. A sea of lights below shining out of the mist was all that was visible from here. After a few moments of stillness, Ryouma let out a little laugh. Not a manic or hysterical laugh, just a laugh of acknowledgement. Wasn’t this just all so ridiculous? Why was he crying over him? The man who rejected the path to godhood, the man who didn’t want to create a world just for them, the man who got in the way of his plans, the man who had to die. He had to. And now he was. He was gone from the equation. Ryouma had removed him. Now there was nothing to stop him. His plans would succeed, for this is just the beginning. A smile crept across his face at the sudden realisation. He turned sharply and made his way across the office floor to the lift. His brain returned to its former self, running through a hundred different thoughts a minute. He needed a pen, some paper, all of his equipment. He had so much work to do; he can’t waste any more time here. This, now, is where it begins.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

SONG LYRICS:  
Just give me a second darling, to clear my head  
Just put down those scissors baby  
On this single bed  
The sand in the hour glass is running low  
I came through thunder, the cold, wind, the rain and the snow  
To find you awake by your window sill  
A sight for sore eyes, and a view to kill

I broke down in horror at you standing there  
The glow from the moon shone through cracks in your hair  
I shouted with passion "I love you so much"  
But feeling my skin, it was cold to the touch  
You whispered "where are you?"  
I questioned your doubt  
But soon realized you were talking to God now

You got blood on your hands  
And I know it's mine!  
I just need more time  
So get of your low, let's dance like we used to!  
But there's a light in the distance, waiting for me  
I WILL WAIT FOR YOU  
So get of your low, let's kiss like we used to

I looked in the mirror, but something was wrong  
I saw you behind, but my reflection was gone  
There was smoke in the fireplace as white as the snow  
A voice beckoned gently "now it's time to go"  
A requiem played, as you begged for forgiveness  
"Don't touch me!" I screamed  
I've got unfinished business

You got blood on your hands  
And I know it's mine!  
I just need more time  
So get of your low, let's dance like we used to!  
But there's a light in the distance, waiting for me  
I WILL WAIT FOR YOU  
So get of your low, let's kiss like we used to

You got blood on your hands  
And I know it's mine!  
I just need more time  
So get of your low, let's dance like we used to!  
But there's a light in the distance, waiting for me  
I WILL WAIT FOR YOU  
So get of your low, let's kiss like we used to


End file.
